a journal of the journey, by monica bass

Power Bigger than Enough

After helping to clean up several wax spills on carpet, I could understand why the Deans’ Office made a rule that dorm residents could no longer keep a candle warmer on the window sill in the bedroom. From then on, candle warmers would be relegated to non-carpeted areas.

My roommate, Sonia, had a candle warmer. She promptly moved it to the sink in the bathroom.

Bad idea.

What the dean’s office failed to consider was that while hot wax is difficult to clean from carpet, candle warmer cords are more likely to be tripped on in the bathroom…which is exactly what happened to Sonia’s candle one morning.

Bad timing.

It is never convenient to clean shattered glass and melted wax off a tile floor. But it’s really inconvenient when you have to do it less than ten minutes before you are supposed to be seated in your first class for the day. As you can imagine, Sonia was distraught.

I tried to console her by the philosophy of my own invention: “Bad mornings make for good days.” (I’ll save the logic behind that one for another post.) But Sonia wasn’t buying it. All she could see was that she wasn’t ready for class and there was melted wax—which was quickly hardening—all over the bathroom floor. Neither being late to class or leaving the bathroom a wreck was an option.

That is when my hero-mode kicked in. Even as my words about bad mornings and good days fell flat on the wax, my hero cape descended, and I had an idea.

Without another word, I swiftly (everyone knows you move swiftly when you’re wearing a super-woman cape—especially when you only have about nine minutes) exited the room, ran down the hall, and retrieved a wax-cleaning tool from the dorm’s utility closet.

No one but I knew of this wax-cleaning tool—mostly because even the manufacturers of the tool made it with another purpose in mind. I don’t know what it is called, but I’m pretty sure it’s made for carpet removal. It has a long scraper-like blade, probably about ten inches, mounted on a long pole—perfect for the task at hand.

Thirty seconds later I floated into the room with my prize to find Sonia scraping the wax from the floor with a spoon.

“Here, I’ve got this,” I said with as much humility as a hero can afford. I gestured for her to move over so I could relieve her efforts with my brilliant weapon.

I was surprised that Sonia didn’t squeal with delight and laud my caring genius. (Sometimes I forget that my hero cape is invisible.) Her face held an expression that I couldn’t quite read, but it seemed to betray something more akin to shock than awe.

I scraped the wax quickly, and we both managed to start our mornings more or less on schedule.

But that was not the end of the wax spill. Not for me, anyway—I still had not received my crown. I brought it up that evening—not too subtly.

“It’s a bummer your candle fell this morning.” [Translation: “This would be a good time to notice what a hero I was in the cleanup process.”]

“Yes, it’s too bad. But I have more.” [It sometimes amazes me how unobservant people can be in the face of genius.]

“Aren’t you glad we happened to have that carpet scraper in the utility closet?” [Translation: “Did you notice how brilliant I was to think of using the carpet scraper we had in the utility closet?”]

“The utility closet?”

“Yes, you know, down the hall, the closet in the lobby.”

“That…thing…was in the utility closet?”

(Perhaps now would be a good time to tell you that Sonia and I had been roommates for less than a week.)

“I actually thought you pulled that out of your closet this morning!”

“Why would I keep a crazy thing like that in my closet?”

Sonia made a look that made me think I didn’t want to know what she was thinking. “Yeah, I sort of thought the same thing. Who but Monica would own something like that!” [I’m not sure this was a compliment.]

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the sort of tool to store in the closet, but it was effective. To this day, Sonia (who has miraculously become my dear friend after having spent a year as my roommate) and I still laugh when we remember the super-tool and its appearance.

Since it was big enough to handle carpet removal, it was “bigger than enough” to handle wax.

Sometimes I picture the super tool when I think of Ephesians 1:19–20:

And what is the exceeding greatness of his power to us-ward who believe, according to the working of his mighty power, Which he wrought in Christ, when he raised him from the dead, and set him at his own right hand in the heavenly places,

Did you catch that? We who know Christ as our Saviour have access to the power that raised Jesus from the dead.

I can’t wrap my mind around that truth. I have access to the power that raised Christ from the tomb.

Have you ever buried a loved one? There is nothing—not one thing—that you can do to reverse death. The power that raised Jesus from the dead is power indeed!

And best of all, it is offered to you and me. It’s a super tool.

I think the power that raised Jesus from the dead is enough power for any need—internal or external, physical or relational, personal, emotional, spiritual…any all—you or I face.

Actually, I think it’s bigger-than-enough power.

How recently have you set down your spoon and turned in prayer to the super power of God? He doesn’t store it in the closet—it is who He is. And it is as within your reach as prayer.

Yes! Thank you for mentioning that verse, Caroline. I looked it up, and it was an encouragement! “For though he was crucified through weakness, yet he liveth by the power of God. For we also are weak in him, but we shall live with him by the power of God toward you.”

Thank you so much, dear sister of mine! This was a meaningful encouragement to me this morning. Every time you point my heart in confidence to our Heavenly Father I think your super woman cape is actually visible to me. <3 I'm so thankful for His more than enough strength for today.